


Plans foiled, ends met

by NTK



Series: Who needs plans anyway [9]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Angst, Blood and Gore, Geraskier, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mpreg, Not Beta Read, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NTK/pseuds/NTK
Summary: Sequel to ‘A dance on the brink’ –  Geralt has to settle one final bill and in a way no one expects, one story ends, another begins.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Who needs plans anyway [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1700353
Comments: 21
Kudos: 277





	Plans foiled, ends met

**Author's Note:**

> Guys….. I am so, so sorry to have kept you waiting. I suppose apart from life getting in the way of writing hours, subconsciously, I also didn’t want to finish this story. It was a friend to me during a few tough weeks, after a few tough years. As were you lovely people, leaving kudos and comments. I appreciate every single one of you. Thanks for joining me on this ride <3  
> Also, I want to clarify my take on Mpreg developments briefly. While I’m totally into omega-verse, I still focus a lot on the masculine physique in my gay romance stories. The bard is preggo but I don’t imagine him acquiring a collection of stereotypically female changes during pregnancy. In my head, his breasts are growing, but not beyond the size of an A cup or so, that’s why I didn’t put any emphasis on that – however, if you prefer to imagine him differently, I hope my lack of in-depth description gave you enough room to do so! This is for your enjoyment after all and by not focusing on something too much, I hope to enable your imagination to fill in the details as you prefer 😉
> 
> So without further ado, here it is, the final chapter. As soon as I have time, I’ll add those two bonus one-shots I promised (pure smut) and I also have other stories in mind… until then, I hope you enjoy the read! Thank you again for all your patience, feedback, and love!! May a merciful good bestow an eternally refilling cookie yar upon you! With your favourite brand!! In extra large sizes!!! No, seriously – I love you. Take care!

“It makes sense, in a way. With all the oddities you have experienced so far.”

Regis took his hand off Jaskier’s belly. At the other end of the bedroom, Geralt was being all tense and fidgety. An almost comical sight that had the omega smile. Despite his concerns.

“I thought we had another three months.”

“More like one week.”, the vampire estimated. “However, if it is developing faster, even a shorter pregnancy can still be time enough for the baby to grow fully before the due date.”

The bard sighed and even that small movement was much harder than it should have been. He was only in his sixth month, but his belly was bloated as if he could give birth any minute. Everything was exhausting. Some time ago, he would go for a stroll through the garden or take his mate to revisit the willow tree that had become their private little hideout. Instead, he spent most of his time indoors, lounging and figuring out how to hold his lute with their growing child in between. The past few weeks had felt like a time lapse and he wasn’t sure if he should be glad or worried about that.

“It’s not… I mean it can’t be, you surely would have figured that out by now.” He barely dared to ask. “Still, what if it’s twins?”

The gasp that came from the witcher was understandable. They had been preparing for one, not two or even more children. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time fate held a surprise for them.

“I wouldn’t rule it out entirely, however I’m convinced that my theory is more likely.”, Regis half-smiled at him.

Jaskier huffed. “A short-cut then... Well, if he keeps growing at this rate, I wouldn’t last much longer anyway.”

Their friend gently padded his knee. “Now, do not fret too much. You have been feeling alright so far, have you not?”

“If you leave out the fevers and occasional bursts of magic.”, Geralt grumbled.

“Apart from that, yes.”, Regis frowned, but Jaskier only shrugged lightly.

“I feel fine. Huge, but fine.”

He really couldn’t complain. Geralt stayed close, never leaving for more than one day at a time. Eskel and him had fallen into a competition of sorts, snatching away local contracts from each other. Lambert joked that they’d go unemployed in no time when all monsters were slayed, bandit camps busted, and ancient heirlooms recovered. The younger witcher himself let his brothers settle their game between them. He’d evidently taking a liking to Toussaint and Corvo Bianco in particular. There was barely a day going by without him and Marlene coming up with a new, slightly deranged culinary invention. Jaskier didn’t mind and in the privacy of his and Geralt’s bedroom, joked that Lambert had either discovered his true calling or simply tried to prove that he was great uncle-material.

Regis had decided to take residence in one of the empty houses nearby and while Triss was back in Novigrad, Yen’s belongings took up most of the upper floor as she had made herself at home in the guestroom. The sorceress and vampire frequently met in Geralt’s alchemy laboratory, assessing their theories regarding naturally inherited mutations.

It felt like family. Much more so than the bard’s actual blood relatives. In between the nightly brawls of drunk witchers, Yen’s tantrums and the ridiculously perfect weather and scenery, he couldn’t have wished for a more wholesome home.

Regis got off from where he’d been sitting on the bed. “Your last fever was three days ago, but not worse than the ones before.”

The omega nodded.

“Good. I can honestly say that everything is going according to plan, despite that plan being fast forwarded. The two of you should be good to go soon.” That prospect elevated the bard’s heartrate. Excitement, joy and also fear. It was his first child, after all – of course he had the jitters. “Just make sure to drink enough water and get some rest. Also, if Lambert is becoming to… eh, inventive, maybe have a word with him. This cayenne-peppered camembert quiche was… quite something.”

“Made my eyes sting.”, Geralt admitted, frowning.

“Really? I think it was quite mild.” That got Jaskier deeply concerned looks from both witcher and vampire.

“Well. I’m certainly looking forward to meet your child”, Regis huffed. “Perhaps its personality will be as spicy as the food it requires.”

When their friend left the pair to themselves, Geralt joined Jaskier on the bed. A look of wonder and concern was visible on him whenever he stared at the bard’s bump these days. His mate extended a calloused hand and gently put it over his belly button.

“Are you sure you’ll be fine?”

Jaskier observed him for some time, a smile tugging at his mouth. He knew that the witcher still had a hard time trusting that this was real; that somehow, destiny had granted them this. He slightly turned and took Geralt’s stubbly face into his hands, making him look into his eyes.

“It will be fine, you’ll see.”

The witcher breathed out, closed his eyes and brought their foreheads together. “Right. We’ll be fine.”

Dragging his limps onto the bed, Geralt welcomed his embrace. He breathed into the omega’s neck, giving him goose bumps. Jaskier felt the witcher’s tense muscles relax a bit under the soothing hands that went up and down his back. It was clear that Geralt didn’t want to worry him. Still. Whatever his flippant demeanour made people think, the bard usually knew when something was up – especially when it concerned his alpha.

“Is today the day?”, he asked bluntly.

“Hmm.”, Geralt confirmed. “I don’t want to leave you, so soon before-“

Instead of finishing his sentence, Geralt sneaked his arms around him, pulling him closer.

“I know.”, Jaskier murmured into silver hair. “Me neither. Yet….”

The witcher nodded. “Yet.”

They lay together like this for a while and at some point, Jaskier thought the witcher had fallen asleep. He could never really tell, with his already calm heartbeat and deep breathing. Either way, he hummed a low melody into his ears. It was new; he’d just finished it yesterday.

“Don’t know this one.”

“Nor will you, until he is born.”

A satisfied sound rumbled through the chest that was pressed close to the bard.

“You wrote it for our child?” A soft nod, and Geralt pressed a kiss on the omega’s outer cheekbone. “Thought you might do that.”

Jaskier chuckled. “Well, you know me.” When he leaned back a bit to catch the alpha’s lips with his own, Geralt’s eyes were drawn together slightly. Still worried, still so protective.

“Do what you have to do and then come back to me quickly.”, Jaskier demanded gently. He smiled and hoped that the confidence he had in his mate bled into it. “There will be so many more songs waiting for us.”

\- - -

Even after they’d agreed on what had to be done, finding the chancellor had taken time. The man was clever enough to know that his days were numbered and resourceful enough to evade his sentence for weeks and weeks, always on the move. The irony struck Geralt as he emerged from his hood in the alleyway on that rainy night: Dijkstra had turned into the same villainous, paranoid madman he had once dethroned. No matter how smart, how cunning – very few managed to escape the corruption that came with power and ambition. The witcher had seen it countless times.

As he made his way across the wet cobblestone of the run-down village, a sense of relief caught him. The former spy wouldn’t be able to escape tonight, now, that Geralt had finally tracked him down. Jaskier was waiting for him and as soon as the witcher was done here, they were finally free to start their new lives.

A house, just a bit further from the others, yet close enough to belong. The dim shine of a candle flickered through one of the windows. Would Dijkstra expect him? He heard nothing, could make out no one within close distance. This was too easy. A trap? He surely wouldn’t put it past the man.

“Here we go, bastard.”, he mumbled to no one in particular.

The door creaked as he carefully pushed it open. A bed, a few shelves, a cold stove and right next to it… even if he had tried to hide, the massive man that was the current ruler of Redania couldn’t have blended in with the dull surroundings that posed a stark contrast to the fine and brilliant fabric that clothed his enormous figure. He sat on a chair, hands on his knees.

“Good evening, Geralt.”

His sword in hand, the witcher stepped into the hut. “Knew you’d expect me.”

“Then it was a damn shitty idea to come.”

Dijkstra didn’t move, his gaze steadfast and unimpressed on the alpha. Geralt barely smelled any fear on him; his heartbeat was as calm and steady as his pose.

“Damn shitty idea of you to meddle with our lives like that.”

The former spy huffed and his fat belly wobbled. “ _Our_ lives. Right, the happy couple decided to play family. I’d heard.” He got up and closed his hands before him. “It all worked out quite well, didn’t it? Had you chosen your sorceress, as everyone expected you to, we would have had to spike her wine with the decoction too in order to get small witchers. Though only you could be so easily deceived and drink an unknown beverage because some stranger dared you to. Either way – a child? Really, Geralt, you of all people?”

“Not the point and none of your business, but what’s so funny about it?”

The ugly mug turned into a grin. “Oh nothing, I would’ve thought you’d run, like you did when you found out about Ciri. And the bard, a parent. That’s even more laughable. But you had plenty of opportunity to get rid of it, both of you, so I take it I can’t change your mind for all of our sakes?”

The grip on his steel blade had become tighter with every one of the chancellor’s words until his knuckles were white.

“I’m not a cruel man, Dijkstra. Wanted to get this over with quick, but it seems you want me to take my time with you.” He stepped closer.

“Right, right. You already did take your time. Enough of it to settle your fate, not mine.”

Geralt halted when he heard footsteps. Many footsteps and the rattling of steel. Shit. The house was surrounded in no time; he didn’t need to see the battalion to know. Shit, shit, shit. His eyes shot to the window with the candle, only to realise that the small flame had died, its remaining heat rising up as smoke. Dijkstra must’ve had extinguished it before Geralt entered.

“What?”, she spy grinned as he observed him. ““I’m quite offended. Did you really think it would be that easy?”

Geralt growled. No, he hadn’t; he’d known better, hadn’t he?

The chancellor chuckled. “Fuck, you’re daft. Never mind, we don’t need you for your brains.”

\- - -

Geralt had been gone only a few hours when the first cramps had Jaskier shake and tumble into a close chair.

“My dear, what is it??” Marlene rushed to his side.

“Ah… I don’t know. It hurts. Ah!”

The elderly lady grabbed his arm and helped him sit down. The bard heaved, holding his belly as the pain slowly faded.

“Could it be…?”, Marlene said, her wrinkly features alert.

But the omega shook his head in defiance. “No, no. It’s too soon.”

“Love, these things don’t often go as planned.”

“You don’t say.”, he breathed.

 _Could_ it be? Regis had given them another week. Then again, with what else he’d said about the fast-developing pregnancy… But now, of all times? Geralt was out to get Dijsktra, Regis hadn’t returned from visiting Emilia and Pierre and the gods only knew where Yennefer had gone after sending his mate through the portal. Neither of them would be back for a few hours at least. Melitele, this was not good.

When another violent rush of pain cut through his abdomen, he gasped and hunched forward, clinging onto the side of the table. Marlene steadied his shoulders.

“By the gods, I’d best call the boys.” Whenever she referred to the full grown, muscly pack of witchers -who were far older than herself- the bard usually chuckled. Not now though. Now he simply nodded.

As the kitchen maid padded his back and rushed out to find Lambert and Eskel, Jaskier looked down on himself unbelieving. Fuck, this was going to happen.

\- - -

The men outside made no attempt to enter the hut, likely waiting for another signal.

“You don’t plan on killing me.”, Geralt stated.

The chancellor snorted. “Killing you? Geralt, my friend, why would I do that? Your balls hold a prosperous future for Redania!”

A snarl forced its way out of the wolf’s mouth. Breeding stock for Dijkstra. Over his dead body. If he could manage that…

“Who else is in on this? Come on, with your switching sides over the years, you can’t tell me you didn’t forge any profitable alliances with ‘my balls’ on the table. Nilfgaard?”

The man laughed again. “Nilfgaard? We just stomped them into the ground, why would I offer them freshly bred witcher-mercenaries?”

“Hmm. Some other empire that seeks a return to former fucking glory then.” He thought. “Somewhere far away; not an immediate threat. A kingdom that’s not part of your conquering plan…”

Dijkstra’s eyes narrowed; the mirth started to fade from his chubby features. Damn, his poker face used to be legendary, but the constant menace of being a ruler and his lust for power must have eroded it, making him less careful.

“Ofir.”, Geralt finally said and the little twitch of his opponent’s eyes was proof enough. “Bet you didn’t tell your buyer much though. They don’t know where your special soldiers come from. You’re too paranoid to share the details of your _success_.”

“Not so stupid after all.” The chancellor gritted his teeth. “It doesn’t matter though. You’ll spent the rest of your days in my dungeon. No worries about getting bored, witcher, you’ll get plenty of visitors once-“

Outside, a scream ripped through the calm threat that were the Redanian soldiers.

Dijkstra jerked; his collected demeanour replaced by confusion. “What the-“

Geralt could no longer keep in his grin. “Did you really think it would be that easy?”

For the first time since they’d known each other, the witcher saw an expression of genuine worry on the former spy’s face. The man’s hand wandered to the dagger on his belt. “You fucking-“

“Save it. It’s over.” The wolf approached the chancellor. Not Geralt but the actual wolf in him, grim and thirsty for gore, vengeance, and justice. “Your shenanigans caught up with you, Dijkstra. And this time, there’s no way out.”

“Awfully sure of yourself, as ever.” Dijkstra drew his weapon and took a firm stand opposite the witcher. “We’ll see who makes it out of this alive.”

And as Yen took apart the soldiers outside, the two men in the hut launched at each other, sharp blades raised and calling for death.

\- - -

A muffled scream ripped through the moon-lit night around the vineyard. Jaskier bit down hard on the pillow as the pain tore at his lower body. Fuck, he would burst. The look of visible distress on the brother’s faces didn’t calm him one bit.

“Eskel, did you ever deliver a baby?”, Lambert asked, leaning on the bedside, wiping the omega’s forehead.

The other witcher shrugged. “Saw a werewolf giving birth once; does that count?”

“…hell no.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.”

Marlene cowered at the door. She did her best to accommodate the bard but was just as helpless when it came to the real problem at hand.

“How does it even work?”, Eskel gesticulated wildly. “I mean, do omegas- do you have-“

“No, I don’t!”, Jaskier spat before another cramp had him convulse. He would have tumbled out of the bed if Lambert’s strong grip had not held his shoulders down. The contractions were only few minutes apart. He was truly and undeniably in labour. Yellow cat eyes frowned down on him, concerned and unsure. The bard wished they were Geralt’s.

“Fuck, Eskel, what do we do?”

“I think” Marlene’s shaking voice came from the door “I-I think you need to… cut it out.”

Deafening silence filled the room, expect for Jaskier’s exhausted huffs. He knew it would come to this. He knew, but he thought they still had time. He thought Geralt would be there, and Regis and-

“Hell no.”, Eskel eventually said.

Lambert shook his head, his eyes not leaving the omega. “Regis was supposed to-“

“But he’s not here.”, the lady countered. “And I’m not sure how much longer the boy can take this.”

Another helpless cry answered her question. Sweat ran down Jaskier’s temples. He shivered, yet he burned up from inside. The feeling of being torn got worse with each cramp. The baby wanted out; made it very clear in fact. It had no way to go. Whatever the gods had had in mind when designing male omega’s, they didn’t think it through. His trembling hand came up to Lambert’s upper arm.

“Please… d-do something.”

The witcher’s face above him twitched as if he himself was in pain. He looked unsure; a strange expression on the man that was usually so confident and full of wits and sarcasm. Despite his own fear, Jaskier repeated his plea, but his lips moved without a sound as the waves of another cramp choked him momentarily. Lambert cursed.

“Fuck! Marlene, bring more water. And towels. And even more water.”, he barked. “Eskel, take my dagger and heat up the blade. Not too much, just so it’s really, really clean.”

As they hurried away to do as they were told, Jaskier heard himself whimper. His hand clutched the Lambert’s biceps tighter, surely hard enough to leave a bruise. He was so, so afraid. The witcher put one hand over his.

“Now don’t freak out, okay?”, he said with wide eyes. “We’ll be fine. Just fine.”

Despite the situation, a breathy laugh gurgled out of the bard’s throat. “You’re… uh. You’re freaking out.”

“Yeah, well… But I got you, alright? Not the first time I cut someone open, so I know how deep I can go.”

Jaskier nodded as best he could. He needed to calm down somehow. “Potions.”, he gasped. “…need potions.”

Lambert sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, concern clearly written in his features. “We don’t have any.”, he confessed. “Yen thought we had another week or so…”

Despite the fire in his bones, the bard’s blood ran cold. No potions. Nothing between him and the abyss of pain that was someone cutting into him with a knife. But what difference did it make in the end? None. His child’s life was at stake.

He put his free hand over his belly and looked down. “I can, ugh, I-I can take it.” He gulped and did his best to give Lambert a firm glance. “I can take it.”

The young witcher held his gaze for a while until Marlene hurried back in, placing a third bowl of water on the ground next to the bed. After her, Eskel entered. With a heartfelt sigh, he handed his brother a short dagger. The blade’s steel glowed dimly. Jaskier sucked in a breath between his teeth.

“Give him something to bite down on.”, Lambert ordered.

Eskel loosened his belt and disentangled it from his pants. He handed it to Lambert, who put it in front of Jaskier’s mouth. “Open up.”

His lips trembled around the thick leather as he bit down. Marlene sat to his other side and gently wiped away the sweat pearls that had threatened to run into his eyes. Another contraction wrought a hoarse yelp from the omega.

“Steady him.”, Lambert commanded the older witcher. “You too, Marlene.”

The hand holding the dagger didn’t shake. A small relief. Jaskier didn’t dare to look down and fixed his eyes on the ceiling instead. A weight on his legs told him that Eskel straddled his lower part while the surprisingly firm grip of the elderly lady pushed his shoulders into the cushions. Oh god, oh god…

“On the count of three.” Lambert’s voice was almost firm. “One. Two-“

He couldn’t help the thrashing that came over him as he was split open. As soon as the blade pierced his flesh, his body didn’t belong to him anymore; didn’t heed the commands of his pain-riddled mind. The scream that came from deep inside his chest startled the small part of him that still clung onto a crumbling piece of sanity.

“Hold him down!!”

Through a cloud of agony and panic, Jaskier heard noise and rumbling but it came from somewhere outside.

“G…Geralt…”, he whined. The noise got louder while two witchers and a maid tried desperately to keep his shaking body in check. Until the door was pushed open. It wasn’t his mate though.

“Beg your pardon”, an unfamiliar voice called. “but there’s someone outside; a woman-“

“Not now!”, both witchers barked in unison.

Jaskier managed to turn his head, trying to get away from the pain that threatened to toss him into unconsciousness. The worker’s face was white from shock as he saw what he had just stumbled in on.

“B-But sirs-“

“Argh, damnit! Eskel, go! Whoever it is, take care of it! Marlene, hold Jaskier down!”

The weight from his legs vanished just when Lambert dragged the knife through his abdomen. His eyes rolled back, and he was sure he’d bite right through the belt. He was open; torn in two. Lambert’s voice barely got through to him.

“I can see it!”, he shouted. “Hang in there!”

Marlene’s grip on him shook as she gasped. Lambert’s strong hands pushed inside of him, pulling him apart, pulling something out. Robbing him of this crushing and yet familiar weight-

His sight swam with tears as he gathered his last bit of strength to look down.

“Gods…”, Lambert breathed, his eyes fixed on what was before them.

The witcher’s blood-red hands held up his miracle. As it’s tiny arms and legs slowly unfolded, Jaskier heard a gasp for air; then a small but firm voice, wailing for the first time.

_It’s done. He’s alive._

Like a dead weight, darkness welcomed Jaskier, and the omega let himself sink into the blissfully numb abyss.

\- - -

Geralt knew that something was wrong as soon as he stepped through the portal and back into the yard. Yen followed right after him.

“That was satisfying. Put up quite a fight for someone his size, but finally, that whoreson of a-“ She gasped as she undoubtedly felt the shift in the air too. Their eyes met. “What the hell is going on here?”

But the witcher was already on the move.

“Geralt!”

The front door was open. Lambert awaited him right outside. His face was pale, his hands bloody. When he saw the pair approach, the younger witcher opened his mouth but nothing would come out. Hushed voices from inside the house. Geralt’s chest suddenly felt tight.

“What happened?”, he heard Yen’s insisting voice behind him but didn’t wait for an answer and rushed past his brother.

Bowls of red water and cloth on the table in the hall. The bedroom door was open as well and through it- no. That couldn’t be…

Ciri must have heard him. Her white hair spun around, almost hitting Eskel in the face as she turned. Her bright eyes found Geralt’s. She held a bundle safely in her arms, her smile teary and full of joy.

“I have a sister…”, she gasped.

Geralt had never felt something tug so harshly at his heart. Half of him wanted to rush over and look, feel- the other kept him frozen to the ground, filled with horror; as if every breath, every movement could reveal the price he wasn’t prepared to pay for this joy.

“Jaskier…?”, he breathed.

Ciri’s eyes shot to the bed. Yet her smile didn’t waver. “He’s going to be okay. Still sleepy. Regis came just in time to stitch him up.”

Only then Geralt could exhale. His feet moved on their own account as he entered the room. His mate was lying on the bed, eyes half open, but weakly smiling up at him.

“We did it…”, he whispered.

As if pulled forward by an ethereal force, Geralt closed the short distance between them and sunk to his knees in front of the bed. He reached out with trembling hands and only when his fingertips touched the bard’s pale cheek, he felt the weight of his relieve settle in. He couldn’t speak.

“Geralt, we did it… but I was wrong.”, he huffed, amused. “A girl. Can you believe it?”

No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t believe any of it right now. Instead of answering, the witcher took the omega’s face into his hands and leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on his lips.

“ _You_ did it… you did so well.”

“He did indeed.” Only then did the alpha noticed Regis and Eskel at the other end of the room. “I was too late to help much.”, the vampire muttered as he wiped his hands on a towel.

“Yeah well, we managed. Barely”, Eskel mumbled. “And Lambert is probably scarred for life.” Even he looked exhausted.

Geralt inspected Jaskier’s abdomen and slightly flinched at the sight. The long cut had been cleaned. There was still swelling of course and the skin around the stitches was coloured in an angry red. But Regis had done well; the suture looked meticulously even. He gulped; wanted to thank his friends for saving them once more. When no word would leave his mouth, Regis simply smiled and nodded before exchanging a meaningful glance with Eskel. Thank the gods for the vampire’s unparalleled empathetic intuition, Geralt thought as the two men quietly headed for the door.

Ciri came to sit next to him on the bed and that’s when Geralt truly saw _her_ for the first time – his second daughter.

Very light brown hair covered her tiny head. When he leaned in closer, Ciri understood and carefully handed the bundle to him. The baby must have felt the switch because she crunched her nose uncomfortably and made a small sound. When she opened her eyes, it took Geralt’s breath away.

“She’s…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. _Beautiful_ , _divine_ , _perfect_ – every word paled before the sight of their daughter.

“Yeah, right?”, Jaskier muttered, leaning in as best he could.

“And you go your wish.”, Geralt muttered unbelieving, still too awe-struck to look away from those eyes; those yellow eyes that perfectly matched his own.

\- - -

He’d had been right, Jaskier thought some days later. As soon as she had been born, their daughter had become the glowing centre of the household. Everyone wanted a piece of her.

Geralt, Yen and Ciri had watched over the baby for the time it took the omega to heal enough so he could hold her properly. He would have expected his mate to be a bit clumsy or at least uncertain when it came to such details as how to safely hold a baby – but evidently, he’d underestimated him. Geralt did just fine and whenever Jaskier watched him carrying their daughter through the room, rocking her in his arms, humming and whispering to her quietly, the love he felt threatened to spill over what a human should be capable of containing inside himself.

Maybe it was because he had been such an essential part of the birth, but even Lambert was not himself around her. As much as he tried to return to his usual prickliness, he simply melted into a soft ball of joy whenever he had her. Well, witcher-edition. Jaskier caught him mumbling something about sword training and drinking competitions once she was old enough.

At some point, when the bard had gathered enough strength to complain, he shooed them all out to finally get some quality time with his daughter himself.

Of course, he couldn’t blame anyone for being bewitched by her. She was marvellous. He couldn’t help looking at her and whenever he did, time seemed to stand still. The way her tiny hands held onto his fingers; the way she looked back at him whenever she was awake… it was as if the centre of the universe and all that was good had shifted and was now cradled in his arms.

Geralt and him spent what felt like hours in silence on the bed with their child safely in the small space between them; just watching her. Against all odds, the three of them, together at last.

“We need more than one name. At least three.”, the bard insisted.

“Three? You’re exaggerating. One.”

“Two!”

“Hmm. Right”, the witcher said as understanding dawned on his face. “I married into royalty.”

Jaskier felt his eyes widen in mild shock; he was taken aback for a moment. Then he looked away, the corner of his mouth twitching, trying to supress a grin. “No, you haven’t. Not yet at least.”

“Alright, I will then.”

“What? Geralt what kind of proposal is that supposed to be?”

“Don’t know.”, the alpha shrugged. “More of a statement.”

Unbelievable! “Oh well, and I suppose you just assume that I will say yes?!”

“Hmm. Yes?”

“… well”, Jaskier huffed eventually, torn between being outraged and utterly in love. “How- how- …how very observant of you!”

At that the witcher laughed. Then he leaned over their daughter and simply kissed him. It was slow and full of promise. Oh, how was a simple bard supposed to stay mad at him.

After a while, Geralt smiled weakly. “Looks like we’re engaged.”

“Should we tell the others?”, Jaskier murmured against his mate’s lips.

The witcher seemed to think about it while he placed another kiss at the corner of his mouth. Then he shook his head. “No. Someday perhaps. But for now, I want it to be ours. Ours alone.”

With everything they had to share in the past months, the omega understood all too well. A year back, the idea of not boasting with such news and even slightly putting off the festivities such an occasion held would have been unthinkable. Now, he felt himself return the smile and simply nod in agreement. Boasting, showing off… one would feel inclined to such behaviour only with lesser, shallow achievements. What they had however, was a treasure to be guarded; a blessing so holy that fame and glory and fortune paled beside it. Jaskier didn’t feel the need to weigh it up against anything – he simply knew that nothing compared.

They were silent for a while after that, lounging in their shared bliss. Until Jaskier’s mind wandered back to the beginning of their conversation. To be honest, he’d thought about that some time and had confidence in his choice.

“Visenna.”, he murmured.

Visibly confused, Geralt looked at him. “What?”

“Visenna Aurelia… if you’re okay with it.”

The witcher just looked at him. Until something began to shine in his cat eyes. He gulped and didn’t need to say anything for his mate to know that, yes, this would do nicely. Jaskier reached out to cup his cheek soothingly before smiling down on their daughter.

“Hello, Visenna.”

\- - -

“Visenna Aurelia Pankratz, future Viscountess de Lettenhove.”

“That’s a mouthful.”, Eskel commented, appropriately enough in between two bites of mutton leg.

“Still, quite fitting, given Jaskier’s position”, Regis countered.

“His _position_ is the reason she’s with us after all!”, Lambert hollered. He was drunk again, which was the only reason Jaskier spared him a firm hit with his lute.

Geralt sighed. They’d all needed to blow off some steam after the recent events -and of course, celebration was in order as well-, so Regis and Yen had taken it upon themselves to select eight of his finest bottles. Most of which were empty after an hour.

For the first time, Jaskier joined them in the hall, alive and more or less kicking. The scar had healed well, albeit more slowly than his last injuries. Regis figured that now Visenna had parted from his body, he was back to being a regular human being. No more flashes of magic or other oddities caused by mutagens.

“However, I am quite sure you can expect your offspring to keep you entertained from now on.”, Regis estimated when they breached the topic. “The way she looked at me this morning… well, maybe I’m just making it up, but I didn’t expect such knowing eyes from a newborn.”

Lambert giggled. “She’ll be smart. Another miracle, considering her parents.”

That got him a punch in the chest from Geralt.

“Oi!”

“Make yourself useful. Round of Gwent?”

The younger witcher crunched his nose and took another gulp of his wine before answering. “I’m way too pissed; you’re just gonna strip me off my cards.”

“That was the plan.”

“I’ll play you, old man.”, Ciri chimed in. “Let’s see if you still got it.”

All in all, after a few glasses and a few rounds (during which he gave as good as he got), the feeling of ease finally started to settle in the Wolf. He’d been awaiting it, eagerly, yet it only truly came when he saw them all gathered like that. As if all the bad and great things that happened during the past months were just another adventure. Yet they’d never brought home a more precious thing before. And so he emerged himself in the welcome company and purposefully soaked in the feeling of _home_.

It was late when Yen passed by, once again donning her black cape.

“Your’re leaving?”

“Not for long.”, she assured him. “I have a squirming professor waiting in the rooms I rented nearby. As much as it pains me, he needs to be fed.”

The witcher frowned. “Did you chain him to something?”

“For now, yes. His working station. Let’s say he’s on probation.”

“You still after this cure?”

She smiled as he followed her into the yard. “Of course I am. And if you intend to lecture me again, safe your breath. Your beautiful daughter is proof enough that it can work out marvellously.”

Since he couldn’t argue with that and Yen would always do what she wanted anyway, the witcher simply shrugged. “Just be careful, will you.”

“Naturally.” She turned around and shot the witcher a warning look as she drilled her index finger into his chest. “Speaking of little Visenna – you better believe that it will be I who will be the child’s godmother. Or else you have to fend me off with dimeritium shackles.”

And with that, the sorceress stormed off as brash as she’d arrived all those months ago. Geralt felt a warmth in his chest that had no longer the taste of a lover’s longing. “No question about that, I’d say.”

Jaskier, who’d evidently listened in, appeared next to him and chuckled. “Yes, for all our sakes.” He grinned as he continued. “Maybe Dijkstra should have been the godfather, wouldn’t you say? After all, without him, we wouldn’t be here like this.” When the bard laughed, it warmed the witcher’s heart. To see him like that; to see that what had happened didn’t break him... “What a pair, can you imagine?”

“We will never find out.”, Geralt said and put and arm around his mate’s shoulder as they watched Yen mount her horse by the stables.

As she disappeared on the road south, the bard’s face turned serious again. “Others might try to get their hands on us.”

Geralt turned to face his mate, putting both arms around his waist. “No one knows; made sure of that.” He leaned in, bringing their foreheads together. Jaskier sighed, but for once in a long while, it sounded at ease.

\- - -

The hour was even later when an inexplicable gut feeling drew Geralt back out into the yard. The lot inside had mostly retired for the night. Eskel and Lambert snored beside each other in their chairs and their brother had no intention to wake them as he passed on his way outside.

He knew it was her before he could properly see the blond hair and colourful dress.

“Sorry”, Emilia greeted him from the bannister, holding her hands up. “I know I shouldn’t be here, but I had to make sure that… everything went alright.”

 _You’re right, it’s not your place_ , he thought. Perhaps it was the thought of Jaskier or the joy that still lingered in his bones that had him say: “It did. More or less. They are both doing fine.”

She sighed. “I’m glad. I’ll rest easier now.”

“Bad conscience?”

She shrugged. “Believe it or not.”

“Hmm.”

The vampiress laughed and turned to look over the fields and beyond. “If your songbird was here, he’d surely know exactly how to interpret that frown on your face. And now, with everything settled, I see no one left who’d dare to take your family from you.”

“You know?”

“About chancellor Dijkstra’s early demise? Of course I do. Pierre and I are in hiding but we stay informed as much as we can. Can be useful to monitor the shifting waves of politics and societies, looking for places to hide as comfortably as possible.”

“So you were truly made anathema then…”

She nodded. “It fits me though. I do not long for the company of my kin. Regis comes to visit from time to time. Maybe we should start a charity for exiled vampires, the two underdogs we are.”

The witcher huffed, only this time, Emilia remained serious.

“You gave him good, I hope.”

“What do you think?”

“… I think you gave him good.”

In their shared silence, Geralt remembered once again that he had served justice for her and Pierre as well. Thanks to the Redanian bastard of a chancellor, she had been dragged into this and eventually got exiled. No matter how much she tried to hide it, he figured that being cut off for all eternity did bother her after all.

“Why did Orianna help Dijkstra in the first place?”, he asked. “Had enough money, judging by the size of her estate; what was in it for her?”

“Children.”, Emilia replied. “She developed an obsession for their blood. Financed an orphanage outside of the city. When Dijkstra offered her all the orphans of his coming conquering wars, she couldn’t refuse. And in turn, pledged her allegiance by offering her recently acquired hostage -me- to trick you into breeding the bard.”

She had the decency to look away. And it was then, under the bright moon of Toussaint and at the end of his most dangerous adventure so far, that Geralt struck a deal with his inner beast. “I’ll be occupied in the months to come. Won’t have time to chase you through the mountains again. You’ll need to find someone else to hunt you down.”

The vampiress raised her eyebrows with a mocking smile. “You wouldn’t catch me anyway, we established as much at the Castel.” At the warning look he shot her, she only rolled her eyes in amusement before getting sincere once more. “But, for what it’s worth… I thank you. And as a token of my appreciation for your new family, please take this.”

Her extended hand held a small scroll. Hesitantly, he took it from her.

“A cheesy farewell letter?”

“A recipe. Something Pierre and I came up with. Zaytsev is not the only genius around, you know.” The distant smile that appeared on her lips had something proud to it. “Pierre studied us even before I met him. Vampires, I mean, and especially the reason for our long lives. This…” She pointed at the scroll. “This is the result of years of research. A formula to prolong human life. Not eternally, but I suppose if administered in the right dosage, in the right interval, it should be enough to extend a human life span to the one of a witcher.” She winked.

Geralt couldn’t believe his ears. “You are shitting me.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die. That’s how it goes, yes?” She shrugged. “We distilled quite a variety of potent liquids. Didn’t you wonder how Pierre managed to sneak up behind Orianna when Regis and I couldn’t?”

“She was occupied with her gloating.”

“That helped, yes. But really her demise was possible thanks to a little potion I call the Chameleon. It creates a field that swallows even the tiniest sounds created by the one who drinks it. Like invisible cushions strapped to the body. But better. And without actual cushions. Anyway. Ask Regis to test the one I just gave you; reconstruct the formula. You’ll see. Oh, and you’ll need a higher vampire’s blood, of course, so you need his assistance anyway. I’m sure he’ll be eager. Should kindle his intellectual appetite if nothing else.”

Still not truly convinced, but hopeful, Geralt nodded and stashed the scroll away safely. If she was right, there was a chance to keep his happiness much longer than he’d dared to hope. However, her last words reminded him of something else. “How is it by the way, your _appetite_?”

Her smile broadened briefly. “Dampened. I might have to thank Orianna for that. Believing Pierre had been harmed or even killed set quite a few priorities straight… We even- hmm. Now that you won’t chase after me any longer, I might as well tell you. We even thought about taking on Orianna’s orphanage.” She looked back at the house, seemingly content and perhaps a bit hopeful. “Pierre is very good with children.”

At the back of his mind, the smug image of Regis appeared. Geralt wouldn’t mind if his friend had been right. If his good faith in Emilia should turn out to have been a fruitful investment.

“Hmm. Take good care of them then. And make sure to let me know if they start to look tasty.”

Her snort was heartfelt. “No worries but if you want to, come visit us some time.” She hopped off the bannister and inclined her head. “Until then, I wish you the best. Take care, all three of you.”

Geralt watched her turn into black smoke and rise to the clear sky. Not a doubt was left in his mind as he quietly replied to her, himself and the world in general: “We will.”


End file.
